Brutally
by Hitsugi Zirkus
Summary: I didn't mean to break Love. But what else could be expected from a boy with no soul? Elliot/Leo Based on the myth of Cupid and Psyche. Status changed to mini-series.
1. Brutally

**A/N: **Whoo, look at me! This is probably the most publishing I've done in a day since middle school! Maybe even ever! I don't even care that it looks like I don't have a life, because not a single eff shall be given on this day B) Not to mention updates are slow anyway... So this is a two-shot to tide you over. Technically, this idea came to me last year. Then I found it buried in my USB and dusted it off, polished it up a bit, then bam~ This is the result. I hope it's fine, it seemed to do well on my Tumblr -smiles hopefully-

By the way, Glen referred to here is meant to be "Glen" as in the "soul of Glen" personified. It's not Oswald or Revis. You can feel free to picture either of them, however. This was meant to be an abstract idea of the relationship of "Glen" and Leo.

**Brutally**

A long time ago, I decided to hide myself. It was annoying, going outside all the time, only to be stared at; talked about like I didn't have any ears. They talked about me, about how desirable I was, how beautiful I was. My ethereal shade of purple eyes reflecting spots of light, my thin lips and slender body that somehow gave me a girlish waist. The girls said I was prettier than them. I heard even boys fell for me.

I didn't think it was flattering.

I was merely a dead doll who just happened to be repaired with all the right parts. It doesn't change the fact that I'm still a dead doll. Not that anyone could realize that. I had to make them though, no matter what. I couldn't take any of what they gave and offered.

So when I wondered how I could hide myself, I decided to cut my hair messily, uneven locks becoming a tangled heap. My bangs I left alone and allowed them to grow longer, covering my face. I bought some large, round glasses and perched them on my face as well. Everything was hidden and I couldn't really see. But I was okay with that. Whatever it took.

Glen wasn't happy with me, and wondered why I did it. I told him once, and he didn't understand. That was fine (Glen, he hates me anyway). I didn't expect him to know what it was like to be scared about what people thought of you, even though they all thought the same thing, giving you the same (disgusting) look of wanton hunger.

They all wanted to take me apart - everything they admired was what they envied. Or what they wanted to keep locked up somewhere to put on pretty display. Never once am I thought to be a person with a soul.

Oh, right.

My real name is Psyche. I was told it meant "soul." As I got older though, I thought more and more that I did not deserve such a name. After all, I was but a doll to others. Sweet, brutally broken doll. I hated it, hated my glamorous name. I read one of my many books, and renamed myself after a character in one, "Leo."

I loved books greatly. I spent hours in my personal library. When I made myself comfortable and engrossed myself in a book, Glen would find me and rip it from my hands. He hated it whenever I could escape, when he could not escape at all.

"Stop it!" he'd shout, and knock down the shelves and shelves of the books I read, the walls of my sanctuary, the barriers and my defenses to the outside world. "Stop it! How many times do I have to tell you to get rid of all this!? I've repeated myself! Get rid of it!"

I watched him through my bangs, through my glasses, silently wondering when he'd get it over with and try to destroy me next.

I guess Glen had his reasons then for burning my books, my stories, my world, my best friends. I guess he had his reasons. I guess he had a purpose for cutting up my snow-white (corpse-pale) skin. He just wanted to forget he couldn't escape life like I could - he was treated like a plague, and yet I was the innocent one. Glen hated me for it, convinced I wore some sort of mask.

But which was the mask? Do I wear it when I try to hide or when nothing is covering me?

It's never obvious until someone tells you... That being who you are is a horrible thing; that doing what you do is a sin. And once it's said, it's all over - the words resonate, spreading inside you like a poison until it becomes truth. Poisons are effective much earlier than cures.

"You're the weird one!"

I cried that night, lamenting over my burned stories, my one escape. I missed the words so much. What would I do now? Once part of you is taken, it's hard to find something to replace it with.

It was around that time when you came to me.

I hadn't expected it, but at the same time, it seemed like I accepted it pretty quickly. I nakedly laid on my bed, my hair its usual mess and my blankets ripped and discarded on the floor. The tears had dried on my cheeks and the cuts Glen had given me had stopped bleeding. I heard my window open and the winter chill flurried in the room.

Did you float to me? I didn't even hear your footsteps at all. My bed creaked when you came up beside me. I stared at the wall, my heart racing and causing blood to pound in my ears. Perhaps you were one of those foolish people who fell in lust with me, and you had come to claim my virgin body (I was naked, after all). Perhaps you were someone so jealous of my beauty that you had come to kill me.

Knowing you were attractive didn't come without its vanity.

I hadn't expected Love.

Calloused fingertips brushed my unkempt black hair away from my ear. You whispered to me, "I've seen what's been taken from you. I don't want to take anymore – not yet, at least."

That reassured me very little, and I sarcastically told you as much. I was sick of the weirdos in my life, who somehow had the nerve to brand me the biggest weirdo.

"I don't think you're weird," you said to me. I hadn't realized I had said that last part out loud. "You are confusing, though," you admitted, brushing your fingers through my hair.

I felt your hand come nearer to my long, long bangs and glasses. I recoiled. "Don't," I demanded tersely.

Of course you became dumb and asked why not. "Because I don't want you to see me," I whispered. You pointed out that it was dark, and that we wouldn't be able to see each other anyway. Ah, I hadn't thought of that. I told you it was a miracle that you had found my bed at all.

You chuckled, and it was such a playful sound that I wanted to turn around, but I didn't. I didn't trust you yet. I whispered that I didn't want to brush back my hair or remove my glasses, because even the shadows had eyes. It seems poetic, but saying it out loud just makes it seem like a fake, cheesy excuse. Still, you didn't ask me again.

I froze when your arm wrapped over my waist, your face nuzzling into my soft, dark (rat's nest) hair. My heart pounded, because then I had the horrifying thought - _it doesn't matter how much I try to hide, how much Glen cuts me, I will always be desired as an object. Everything will be empty_.

Then you whispered, "I want to be with you tonight. After today, I thought you should be held. You don't have to be afraid. Like I said, I won't take anything else."

What made me trust you so much? I became absorbed in your warmth, your heartbeat. You were still, and breathed evenly. It seemed like I feel asleep within seconds. When I opened my eyes the next morning though, heart fluttering, you were gone. I must have imagined you, my mind playing games with what I truly wanted.

But no, your warmth returned to me that night.

After a few days, I came to expect you every night after I had retired to my room. You told me not to wait out by the window for you, that you'd always come without fail. I didn't see how I couldn't wait for you, given that vow. But I laid on my bed anyway, listening to my own breath call out for you, not able to wait.

But you did as you promised. You came to me, and I looked forward to it. You talked to me about random things, which always turned into some form of bickering, but then you'd apologize wordlessly, the only way you knew how – holding my hand, brushing your fingers against my cheek, tangling our legs together. Sometimes we'd just lay in the silence, and you'd lay closer to me, closing the darkness and space between us. One night, you brought up what Glen had done to my books.

"How do you know about that, anyway?" I asked quietly, chest contricting at the memory of the pages being burned.

Bluntly, you replied, "You read every night before you go to sleep. Sometimes throughout the day you bring a few books in your room. Then I stopped seeing you read, so suddenly. And you were crying. Ashes were on your hands." Your large, warm hand with slender fingers fit for a pianist touched my palms.

I remembered grabbing through the ashes, all that was left of my books. The anguish I felt had been heart-wrenching. Had you really seen me in such a state, and even before then? I blushed. "You watch me?" My voice was small.

"You loved books. And let's just say I know a thing or two about love in its various forms." Before I could say anything else, you began to tell a story. You gently ran your fingers through my hair, soothing me with both touch and sound.

From then on, I went to sleep with the sound of your voice at my ear, whispering and weaving the stories you knew, our skin vibrating together as you spoke. My pride said I didn't need it, this coddling. Then I realized it wasn't that.

This was always after the sex. Don't ask me when it happened, because the nights always blurred like a dream. But maybe I had been waiting for it. Each night you came, I never wore clothes, and you'd join me under the blanket, touching my exposed flesh. Our hips would touch, and it was then I realized you wore nothing either. We had both been wanting to connect.

You thought you were better at first, because you were the experienced one. After the teasing, I'm ashamed to admit that I thought you would take advantage of me. But you didn't. I can imagine, through the darkness, that your expression softened when I murmured I didn't know what to do.

You treated me gently. Your lips brushed everywhere on my face and neck, melting on my hot skin. Your fingers danced over the cuts both old and new over me and you kissed a few. "It'll be better," you promised with each kiss. I was so lost in ecstasy I believed it.

_It'll be better. You will have your soul back_.

Our flesh melted together, the darkness keeping us blind. Everything was with touch. It was pure sensation of grabbing, kissing, licking, thrusting so deeply-! I breathed heavily, clinging to you. If my hands reached to far up your back, you'd pull away, seizing my wrists and pounding into me at a new angle. Every time, I'd allow you to cum inside me, fill me to the brim with heat; and when you'd leave, I'd reach down and lick off your taste from my fingers.

You told me your name, saying that I was the only person other than your family you'd let know. I screamed "Elliot" in complete pleasure at the height of my orgasm from then on. In return, you were the first person to call out "Leo," and I knew I loved hearing it more than my real name.

"I want to see you," I whispered. You had just finished telling me the story about a girl who changed her name hundreds of times, becoming a different person each time and yet who always fell in love with the wrong person. We had both calmed down from the sex, but now we were kissing softly. My hand tried to venture to your back, but you stopped me like you always did.

"But I see you every night," you replied lightly, purposefully avoiding the question.

I shook my head, pulling the sheets up toward me. I was staring right at you, yet I could barely make out a silhouette in the darkness. I tried to leave the window open once to let in the moonlight, but you closed it when you came in. Never had I even seen your face.

"Why just at night?" I asked. "Why never in the day? Why can't I ever see you?"

"Because then neither of us would never be able to escape again," you replied cryptically. You leaned in, trying to give me another kiss, but I didn't respond.

I pulled away, pressing my fingertips to your lips. "Elliot, I'm being serious. I want to see you."

You laughed, but it sounded forced. It sounded like you knew this night would come, but you just hoped it never happened. And I wanted to know why someone I loved so much wanted so bad to hide in the darkness. I let you embrace me, but for once I stayed up until you left - just before light broke in the sky.

Glen eventually found out about you - or at least that someone existed, and was loving me. For me. He probably noticed because I don't cry anymore. So of course, he had to fix that and make me broken once again. And he knew right where to hit.

"He only comes to you at night?" he asked, raising a brow. Then his lips curled in a smirk. "What kind of love is that? He could be a monster for all you know. Love that blooms only in darkness is love that blooms in lies."

Cut. Sear. Burn. Slash. Each word hurt me, because they were all words I had thought more than once when I woke up in the morning to see you gone. And even though I knew you'd come to me every night, it didn't stop the growing emptiness inside me.

I had you, but not all of you. Maybe I didn't deserve you. And like every other time, the poisonous words effected me more than the cure you gave me each night. Even you couldn't fix my doubt, with your touch and words and presence of pure warmth, like a knight. My knight that appeared only in the cover of darkness.

I placed a candle on my nightstand one time. You came, like you always did. Your strong arms circled around me, soft lips brushing against my neck. Your naked flesh pressed against me. I kept you cradled to me closer than usual, distracting you as I reached out and struck the match. You heard and looked up in surprise, just as I held the lit candle up.

Had I not a firmer grip, I probably would've dropped it.

Eyes like a summer sky widened, catching the light of the candle like the sun. Soft blond hair tickled either side of your face, and your lips were full and pink. Shadows mixed with the soft orange light of the flame, tracing the contours of your muscles perfectly, caressing you. And sprouting out from your back were beautiful white wings. You were the kind of person poets wrote about, the kind that stories praised as a wonderful knight. You were like a god.

And I _knew _I didn't deserve you.

"Leo, I told you no!"

My hand trembled, and wax from the candle dripped out and fell onto your thigh. With a yelp of pain, your gaze tore away from me, and everything else inside me tore when you did it. I shook my head, raking my bangs in front of my face again. No. No, I could never be worthy of you...

I said it out loud, closing my eyes.

You got out of the bed, and your voice was taut as you murmured, "I'm sorry, Leo. I _told_ you you couldn't see my face."

"G-go, just go," I whimpered, gripping the candle too tightly. I didn't want to see your perfection, not when I was but a broken doll with no soul. Oh, why had I let you make love to me so many times? Why had I allowed myself to be entranced by your stories and voice?

"I can't come back to you anymore," you said miserably, like you were just as sad as I was. The declaration had me suddenly feel as though I was swallowing glass. The window creaked open and the room suddenly felt colder. I knew you had left. That Love had left me.

I knew the nights of crying were upon me once more.

* * *

**Ending A/N: **By the way, I feel I should give huge amounts of love to my favorite author, Francesca Lia Block. Really, it was when I read her book _Psyche in a Dress_ last year that I was rolling on my floor, wanting to do my own version of Cupid and Psyche. This sprouted from it. I'll try to publish the other half soon. It'll be in Elliot's point of view and continue with the end of the story.

Review, perhaps?


	2. Fatally

**A/N: **So here is the sequel to _Brutally_! As you can see, I changed the status of this from a simple two-shot to a mini-series. This was something decided on my Tumblr when I asked my followers there what I should do (because the story was becoming possessed. Again. Argh). I'm thinking no more than four chapters, because I want Leo and Elliot to have equal points of view.

Thank you, **Poppyblood**, that was such a touching comment for me to read!

Despite the fact this isn't a two-shot anymore, I really do hope you enjoy -bows-

**Fatally**

In the beginning, I was meant to carry out a task my siblings had given me. They had been watching the family perched at the top of the hill, the one bathed in sunlight and covered with beautiful flowers. My family lived within the woods, a forgotten but once powerful people. Once, we had been considered gods alongside the others. Over time, we were cast in darkness.

That's why they loved me the most when I was born. I, the youngest, born in light and given ablities to sway the human heart. Tufts of pure-white feathers grew from the wings on my back and with just a touch I could make others love, or hate, anyone I chose. When I became old enough, my brother Claude fashioned me out a bow and arrows, which I used on the humans to give them feelings of hate and love.

Hate and love and touch me and break me with love and hate.

Love became a superficial thing to me. But it always had been, even before my siblings told me to make so and so fall in or out of love.

When I walked through the woods, arrows tucked in a holder over my shoulder and bow held firmly in my hand, I thought about what was the point of it. What was love but some manipulation of emotion? The same manipulation exploited on me by my family?

And the manipulation never ended.

"That boy that lives up there with that cursed Glen? His name is Psyche," Vanessa said to me one day, arms crossed. "People say he's the most beautiful being on Earth."

Ernest chimed in, smiling darkly. "I say, he's nothing more than some slut. Elliot, we have a favor to ask of you."

And like always, I always stupidly asked what it was. And just like always, each of my siblings exchanged a look before staring onto me. Claude waved a dismissive hand. "Play with his heart. Make him fall in love with some monster. A tree or an animal would be more amusing, wouldn't it?"

"That would be outrageous!" laughed Vanessa. "Do it, Elliot. It'll be what he deserves."

Wordlessly, eyes staring into nothing, I nodded. That same day, I flew up to your hilltop and perched myself in the tree next to your open window. Hidden in the tangle of leaves, I waited for you. In order to humiliate you with my manipulation, my so-called powers over love, "Eros."

Oh, nearly forgot to mention. My real name is Cupid, but it's never been a name I really liked. It was just some stupid title to something I didn't even want. And it never did feel right, being able to play with the emotions of others like this. But what did it matter? What else was in my life?

Then the door to your room opened, and I readied my bow, drawing an arrow. There was a potted tree right here on your balcony that I thought was stupid enough to fall in love with. I expected you to be mildly pretty; someone attractive, but no one that could really catch my interest - after all, no one did.

I hadn't expected to gaze into Soul.

You were beautiful in every single way. Not just your looks. It was the way you walked, the way you breathed and cutely tugged your bangs over your face. It was how you curled onto your bed, clothes wrinkled as you read book after book and _smiled_.

All of a sudden I wanted to play with your heart all the time, and have you love me. I could do it. If I just shot you with my arrow, or touched you with that kind of wish...I could have you fall in love with me.

And for the first time in my life, I disobeyed my siblings. Lowering my bow and arrow, I watched you for hours, my breath slightly more heavy and faster than usual, my heart pounding so thunderously in my chest. It was so foreign. I was never the one to feel these swell of emotions in my chest, making me dizzy with desire for you.

Ironic, wasn't it? That I, Love itself, did not know what to do with my own affections for you. But I had fallen hard and I could not rest until I somehow made you mine.

When my siblings asked how it went, I muttered something about a plant. They pressed me for details, wanting to know how ridiculous you must've looked. I shrugged, said some vague things before I went to my room, where I _could not stop _thinking of you.

Days passed and I flew up to the tree near your room each time to watch you. Sometimes I could only come at night, and gaze upon you when you slept. _Psyche_. Somehow, that name sounded odd for you. Not right.

Yet no matter how many times I visited, I never once shot you with an arrow. I never even brought my bow and arrows with me. No matter how much I yearned for you, I thought it was better not to interfere and disobey my siblings even more.

In one night everything changed my mind.

I saw you, shivering and trembling beneath your gossamer sheets. Your hands were smudged with the gray-black of ash. Red lines were all over the parts of your alabaster skin that I could see. That was the first time I hadn't seen you read a book, looking so serene and enraptured. I knew something had gone terribly wrong, and my heart ached to see you like that.

My wings were half-spread when I realized what I was about to do. Oh. I couldn't let you see me. Why? Just so I could manipulate you? Not with touch or my arrows, but with my face? I wasn't an idiot, I knew I was attractive. I also knew others mistook such admiration of beauty for affection.

I was stupid. I should've realized you of all people knew that. But I got scared and closed the open window as I stepped into your room for the first time, cloaking us in darkness. I invaded the previously-built borders, reaching out for you.

You froze when my hands found you and my body fell onto your bed. I murmured against your ear, trying to soothe you. I was no wretched, ill-intented person like the others that sought after you. If I could just touch you, influence you to trust me at least a little...

But you recoiled as I attempted to brush back your bangs. "Don't," you all but whimpered. Suddenly you were so fragile and I feared just being with you would make you break. "I don't want you to see me."

My naked leg brushed against yours, very softly. And I thought about how I was the same way, not wanting you to gaze upon my face. I came to you in darkness, but right then I promised myself that my love for you could be brighter than any sun.

I embraced you in my passion, and you gasped, tensing. It was hard to resist the urge to shoot you with my arrow. But I wanted this fairly. I wanted to win your heart fairly, with no manipulation. And so I held you, praying you wouldn't push me off or scream or deny me.

You didn't.

Quietly, I decided to push my luck. "I want to be with you tonight. After today, I thought you should be held. You don't have to be afraid." And then I was happy, so happy when you slowly relaxed, heavy in my embrace when you fell asleep, your small body rising and falling gently with each beautiful breath.

But then the hours passed too quickly. Within minutes, the sun would begin to rise and light would be shed into your room. I pulled away, my fingers lingering over your naked waist. Truly, I wanted to stay, be the one you woke up to... Sadly, I leaned down, brushing my lips against yours, but not really kissing you.

"I'll come back," I promised in a soft voice.

The next night, I did. I always did. I told you never to wait for me, and that I'd leave before the sun came up the next morning. And slowly, you began to talk to me, open up little by little. Each new word from your lips made me smile and laugh.

I caressed your face softly, murmuring to you all the stories I knew, stories and myths and legends I grew up with. Right beside my love for you was the want to heal the scar on your heart. And with each story, you'd fall asleep peacefully, as if my voice was always meant to soothe your pain. Was I really so vain to think such a thing?

But I could hear it in your voice, feel it when I touched you, that you wanted me, too.

One night, I felt the desire through your fingertips as you traced over my jawbone, and I grabbed your hand, pulling you forward in a deep kiss. It was all so wonderful. To be able to finally talk with you, to hold you, be inside you and feel your heartbeat...

I pressed my sweaty forehead to your shoulder, pushing myself deeper inside. "Psyche, Psyche," I moaned, holding your thighs apart.

You grunted in dissatisfaction. "Leo," you gasped, clutching my biceps tighter.

I revised the name, deeming it much more appropriate; it fell more naturally off my tongue. Up until that point, neither of us had really had a name. And so I murmured mine into your open lips. You moved your hips desperately, your hard length pressing against my stomach.

"_Elliot_!" you cried over and over, in utter pleasure, in sweet love. My wings twitched happily at the sound of it spilling from your lips, both of us climaxing together and becoming one perfect being.

(What was Love and Soul together?)

Of course...I knew one night the questions would come.

"_Why only at night?"_

_"Why never in the day?"_

_"I want to see you_."

But you were my escape. And I had become yours. Seeing my face would shatter everything. My chest felt tight, my expression solemn and apprehensive. But...this wasn't normal after all. Normal love couldn't truly happen like this.

You must've realized it too. That one night, I came into your room, same as always, stripping off my pants before climbing onto bed with you. I was still brimming with such happiness of just being with you that I noticed too late that you were holding a lit candle.

Your eyes, reflecting the fire's brilliance a million times over, were wide in shock.

_Is it over?_ Was everything all over? I thought maybe I could stay, maybe give you time and I could explain...

Then the wax dropped on my thigh and I yelled out in pain. The world got dark, my heart fracturing when you sobbed out those horrible, untrue words. "_I could never be worthy of you_." You shoved me away. You told me to leave. You no longer wanted me because you believed I could no longer want you.

The wounds in my chest hurt more than the sting on my thigh as I quickly flew out your window. I hovered in the middle of the night sky, unsure of what to do. I wanted to hit something, to shoot everyone with my arrows of

_hate _

_hate _

_hate_.

Make heartbreak everywhere. Angry tears prickled the edges of my eyes. I never cried before you.

What the hell was even love?

The pain...it lingered much longer than I thought it would. Claude, Ernest, and Vanessa all noticed how I locked myself in my room. I'd touch the tip of my arrows softly over the burn scar on my thigh. All that wax might as well have scorched the insides of my chest, for how curled up on my bed I was, shielding myself with my wings and filled with boiling sadness and anger.

("What? Elliot didn't do anything to him?")

What was Love and Soul together? What happened when Love's Soul left him?

Despite my frustration and lament, I couldn't even blame you. Not when I wasn't innocent myself. I had messed up my chances with you. If from the beginning, I had just approached you and introduced myself without the cover of night...

("Well, if you want something done right...")

I laid there endlessly. Ignoring my siblings pleas. Not giving notice if it was day or night. The more I laid there, the more empty I felt. White feathers brushed against me. I stared aimlessly at the spot next to me on my bed, big enough for another person to be laying there.

("Fine, we can do _that_. For Elliot. Go get that filthy Psyche.")

I wondered what you were doing. If you thought about me. And if you did, was it in regret? Were the cuts appearing on your skin again? The thought of you hurting again without me there to try to make it go away was an echoing ache that kept amplifying over my body. Who told you stories at night? Who would hold you?

I thought about flying up to your hilltop again and again. It's not that I didn't trust you to be okay, it was...just that I knew you. I knew you enough to know you were dwelling on what happened. You were so stupid. So innocently stupid and I needed you.

I had never fallen in love before... Neither had I ever gotten my heart broken before. I was quickly gathering I couldn't handle it well.

Maybe a few times I got up, walking out and leaning heavily over my balcony. I was so stupid, too. How could I know anything if I didn't see you myself? Leo, I made you fall in love with me once. Could I not do it again? It...could happen again...

Why did I sound unsure? I was never unsure!

"This is such a hassle to deal with," I mumbled to myself. Suddenly I felt bad for all the relationships I had broken up with my arrows. So many times I had been the one to manipulate the feelings of people, with the most intimate of emotions.

Hearts were no small matter. Love was nothing to be trifled with lightly. Yet I had broken these unwritten laws all my life.

And all I could think was that this pain was what I deserved.

* * *

**Ending A/N: **This story is more-or-less easy to plan out, but hard to write (usually, it's the other way around for me). So hopefully I will be able to update this soon. Like I said, my thinking is four chapters.

Elliot's chapter was harder to write than I thought...

Reviews mean a happy ending! Maybe. Perhaps. Not sure. ...Just...just leave a comment with your thoughts -crawls away to her hole-


	3. Strangely

**A/N: **I'm sorry for the delay! Long story short, I want to toss my laptop out of my window which is seven stories off the ground. At any rate, here's the new installment for this mini-series. I do hope you enjoy! -bows-

**Strangely**

When I stop to think about it, our love was strange from the beginning. I should've suspected something from the start when a stranger came to me, saying such sweet things, claiming to love me.

I got what I deserved, for falling for all of it. No person was honestly capable of loving me, much less a god. And especially as I was now - no one would want to even touch me again.

Glen seemed to had noticed the moment you left me. It was obvious how much I had cried, how much my heart just _ached_, nothing but some sharp chasm taking up more and more space inside me. He came upon me at once, and the cuts, the abuse, started again. It almost made me laugh how quickly things went back to the way they were before - as if you never existed. As if all those nights together were really just a dream.

"Do you know why you can't hold on to someone, Psyche?" Glen murmured in his velvet voice, darkly excited as his knife swiped over me again. I didn't even whimper, the gasp from my lips more from the fear of his words than anything. "All you do is take, take to fulfill yourself. Their love, their devotion, their admiration all for the beauty they never see past - it's all false. It can't satisfy you. Then they see you for the soulless, pathetic thing you are. _You _will always be left alone, no less empty than before, but more so." He smirked. "Ironic, no?"

I always wondered why Glen always cut me where people would never see the scars - on my heart as well as my body. No one would see them. Now I knew why he crafted the wounds like that: so my soulless cycle would continue forever.

I really did believe I was beautiful. Especially when I met you. After I saw you in the candlelight and you left, there was nothing but warped ugliness inside me. Sitting in front of the mirror one evening, staring into my eyes, I didn't know why my looks were as they appeared. I was ugly on the inside, and so strange.

I had to make my outsides match.

A silver gleam of scissors shone in one of my drawers and I slowly took them out.

Glen was furious when he saw me again. I had cut myself all over my face. I got too excited in my frenzy, thinking if I just kept relentlessly going, it'd hurt less. My bottom lip was split, a fat, thick cut down the middle. I cut my cheeks, my forehead, nicking the corner of one of my eyes, making me cry out, bloody tears falling. My glasses were broken, discarded on the floor. My hair was a lot shorter, uneven, locks of it littered in the sink.

Yes, Glen was raging. And it made me smile when all he could do was yell at me, but not touch me. That was a sort of empowerment in itself.

I spent most nights in my room, facing my window, staring out. My breath was curiously even despite the anticipation shaking in my very core. It was in vain, it was for naught, I knew you'd never return. Now I didn't have my bangs or my glasses to hide my beauty, and now, my scarred face.

You would never come back. It was far too late to get you back. I knew it the moment I saw your startled expression, the most clear, beautiful blue eyes wide, seeing something die in them.

I frowned, fisting my sheets. What did I know about you anyway, other than two names and that you gave me the best and most painful memories of my life?

And you? What did you know about me?

I wasn't the beautiful Psyche everyone desired anymore.

I wasn't even Leo, the boy you claimed to love.

Who was I now, and to whom?

* * *

I was frustrated. Ever since I made myself over with the scissors, Glen stopped cutting me himself. All it was now was senseless yelling that didn't reach me, and he knew it, and then we both knew it, which made all our encounters without any purpose.

Maybe Glen was right. Maybe I did feed off of others' attention to me. Your attention had sated me the longest, and suddenly I had nothing - like an always-hungry man who had been given a feast then reduced to morsels.

Why had I been so afraid? Why had I pushed you away so suddenly, so forcefully? I didn't even think about it, I just...

My eyes slowly traveled over to my nightstand, where the red candle still was, dried wax keeping it stuck to the smooth wood beginning to get coated with dust. I had held that candle so tightly, fearing you didn't want me... That you didn't want me the way I wanted you.

"_Love that blooms only in darkness is love that blooms in lies_."

It was bright outside, an almost mockingly beautiful day. During days like this, I would open my window, let the soft light stream in as I read my books. If I was feeling particularly adventurous and didn't care that others could see me, I would venture outside to the garden.

But I couldn't do any of that anymore. Not when my books had been taken, not when I tore away my beauty, not when that open window hurt so much. And not when all those flowers, so beautiful and full in bloom by now, would just mock all the wounds inside me. Flowers of Sickness, of Illness. That's what our love had been, hadn't it?

I closed my eyes tightly, clawing at the flesh of my chest. I was naked, like I always was when I was waiting for you - even though it was daytime. Even though I was scarred and bleeding and torn in every which way.

Then I heard footsteps. I thought it was Glen, but when a knock echoed in my suddenly too-big room, I jumped, turning back. I don't know what made me think it was you. Maybe you came in through the front door, actually coming up to me in this manner. What made me hope? Warmth flooded my cheeks and I sat up a bit straighter.

"C-come in," I said. But I hadn't used my voice in so long it came out as an incoherent rasp. I cleared my throat and tried again.

The doorknob turned, clicking as the visitor made themselves known.

Only it wasn't just one person. And none of them were you.

There were three of them, all strangers. And yet each of them had ice-blue eyes. Just like you. I found my breath hitching just slightly. The eyes is where all thoughts of you ended though.

One of them, a tall man with slicked-back black hair, approached me first. His eyes were slightly narrowed in barely-contained disgust. "You're...Psyche," he said, more statement than question, as if to reassure all of us of this horrible fact. And it had actually been such a long time since I had seen anyone but Glen that I was actually _embarrassed_, and I tugged up my blankets to my naked, scarred form.

I knew his relunctance to accept how I looked, and despite how I felt, I managed a passable snort. "Yes, I'm Psyche," I snapped lightly.

Another man, standing right next to the first and with long blond hair, jumped in shock. "What the he-!" The rest of his obvious disbelief was covered up by the third person - a slender woman with short black hair - her hand slapping over his mouth quickly.

"Can I _help _you strangers?" I asked with a tired, creaky voice. People had gawked over my appearance all my life, but I didn't want to start having people come over to see my transformation.

For a slight instant, I believed them to have been brought to my room by Glen. Maybe they would hurt me, too. Do something neither Glen nor I had done yet.

Nothing happened. The first man huffed slightly, straightening out the cravat over his chest. "I'm Claude. These are my younger siblings, Ernest and Vanessa. We have some things to ask you, Psyche. If you'll permit us."

I frowned, shaking my head slowly. "I'm afraid I don't understand. I don't even know you," I said. As if to emphasize my reluctance to speak, I buried myself in the sheets and laid down, suffocating myself in my pillow - the one that had lost your scent long ago.

I heard a hitch of breath then the quick click of heels. "Perhaps not us, but we're the siblings of someone we hope you know," came a patient female voice. The clicking of heels got closer and when I picked my head up, Vanessa was standing right next to my bed. Her straight posture, dark hair, and slightly narrowed blue eyes as I gazed up at her gave her a rather haughty appearance that nevertheless didn't spoil her beauty. Still, it was her eyes that I found myself transfixed on, rings of ice that I knew were too familiar to me...

The name came to me so suddenly, and the answer was so obvious that I realized I probably knew as soon as the door opened. My breath was lost in a second and I gaped, finally rasping out, "Cupid."

I felt Claude and Ernest's mild shock from the other side of the room, but Vanessa stood still before me, hardly seeming fazed. Relentlessly, her gaze bore onto me. The look in her eyes was by far the most terrifying, like they might as well have been made from ice. I tried not to back away when she slwoly seated herself a foot away from me on the bed.

"So you did know him," she said, voice sharp, but guarded.

Slowly, I nodded. I wanted to know how she - how they - knew about me as well. I didn't even want to entertain the notion of you having told them about me, about us. I could only imagine what might've happened had I said your other name rather than your birth one. After all, I knew next to nothing about your family. Why would you bother to tell them about me?

"I... We were... He'd visit me at night. Only at night," I found myself telling her quietly. I was only loud enough for my voice to carry to her, and I saw Claude and Ernest move forward, but Vanessa stopped them.

She turned to them, a thin smile on her lips. "Could you leave us alone to talk?" she asked. When her brothers exchanged surprised looks, she waved them away with one hand, taking one of mine with the other. "You two are serious. I have a feeling this requires a woman's approach. Get out now."

She said all this in a sort of lilt, and I blinked in shock when she held my scarred hand. Warmth flooded my cheeks again, embarrassment clear on my face. After a second though, Claude and Ernest did leave, albeit reluctantly, and closed the door. It actually was easier to breathe after that, and my grip on the blankets loosened slightly.

There was a small pause after that in which Vanessa looked after at the door that had closed. After another few heartbeats of silence, I said, "I honestly don't know what this is about. Why are you coming to me about Cupid? He and I..." We're through. If "we" even existed. My heart sank painfully at the memories of our nights together.

Vanessa turned back to me, her hand squeezing mine. "We came to ask you for help. You see, Elli- Cupid," she amended, and I couldn't help but want to laugh that she thought I wouldn't know that other name, "he's been out of it lately. Something seems to be upsetting him." Her lips came together in a distressed line, her thin black brows furrowing in worry. "I don't know what it is. He won't come out of his room. He won't go out. He doesn't listen to me or the others anymore. And since he won't tell us anything, I was hoping...there was a slight possibility you knew, since you two know each other and such."

My gaze fell down to the wrinkled mass of the blankets, staring mindlessly. I couldn't imagine you in any state of depression like that. But the look in your eyes when I lit the candle... Was it really possible that you were just as heartbroken as I was? That couldn't be true. You should've moved on with your life and forgotten about me.

Still, something in me hung on to that possibility - what if you hadn't? Something burst in my chest, making me inhale deeply. I couldn't name it, not sure if it was sadness or relief. My grip on the sheets tightened again.

Vanessa noticed. Her expression became softer, making her look years younger, like a child. Her blue eyes were larger than I though and she peered at me in question with them. "Who were you to my brother? He never ventures out at night and so I'm curious about the relationship you two had."

Any expression on my face melted away at that, and I only looked up to stare at her blankly. Who was I to you? Now if I wasn't just asking myself the same question! As if I hadn't been wondering that the past few days myself. I knew what I _had _been to you. But how could I tell that to your sister? I found myself fidgeting, wanting to be anywhere but here - because saying it out loud would hurt more than anything.

"I-I... We were... He came to me... I was upset and he... Every night he came to me and we talked and...and such... That is, I was... We were..." I blinked away the tears that threatened to sting my eyes. "We were l-lovers. He told me he loved me. I...I never didn't reciprocate the affection. B-but I...I messed up and I..."

My voice was cracking and I shook my head, getting up and letting go of Vanessa's hand. I kept the sheets wrapped around me as I went over to the wall, pressing my forehead and a fist against it, trying to steady my breathing. I refused to cry. I had nothing to cry over. I made myself over, told myself Leo and Psyche had died. I could be a person not tied to you at all. Except this me had been born of the loss of you, right?

Behind me, I heard the rustle of sheets, the click of heels. I burrowed myself deeper on the wall, wishing she and the others would go away. Suddenly she was leaning near me, her voice brushing against my cheek.

"I can help you with this. I can help you see Cupid again," Vanessa declared, a wide, secret smile on her lips.

My eyes widened, my head snapping up and wondering if I had heard her correctly. What the hell kind of game was this? Heat rushed all the way through my body, and I almost shivered, not realizing how cold I had been. The possibility that I could see you again... But I couldn't. But what had I been for days but sit here and wait for you? Maybe waiting wasn't enough. Maybe I had to be the one to go to you.

I hesitated again, though. What would you even think of me now? "I... But... I-I couldn't, not when I'm..."

I...I was scarred inside and outside now. What...was left to even love? Slowly, my hand reached up to touch my face. My fingers brushed against the cuts that where trying to heal - rough lines that would permanently mark my face. Faster than I would've liked, my eyes filled with tears. I couldn't let you see me, I couldn't...

Vanessa blinked, observing the movement of my hand, of the tears falling down my scarred cheeks. Understanding flashed in her eyes and she tentatively reached out, drawing back slightly, before patting my bare shoulder. "My brothers and I can help with that, too," she said in an excited whisper, as if this were a grand secret. "We know someone who could fix you right up again to how you used to be."

"Wh-what?" I had the urge to take her hand and have her feel over my face. This wasn't the kind of thing that could be fixed, right?

A small laugh left Vanessa. "You're the beautiful Psyche yet you've never properly met Persephone?" The look in her eyes suddenly got darker, an unnamed, angry emotion in them. "I suppose that can't be helped. She's the wife of Hades, a regular girl of Spring. They say with just the sound of her voice, she can make flowers bloom."

I thought of my own voice now, cracked, quiet, and husky from underuse. And Hades? Wasn't he supposed to be the ruler of the Underworld or some such? All I knew was that Glen knew him and would address him as a "friend." I didn't know what I could possibly do with the wife of a friend of Glen's, or how she could help me.

My uncertainty must've shown on my face. Vanessa leaned closer, reaching to squeeze my clenched fist. "You're probably wondering why I'm doing any of this, since we're strangers and worlds apart. But I want Cupid happy again. If seeing you would help him, then I'd like to help you out however I can," she declared, her voice soft, dark satin.

"Why?" I whispered after a few moments of my staring at her with despairing eyes. I still didn't understand. Once more I found myself craving the sanctuary my bangs once brought. "I...I'm like this, and... Me and Cupid, we're both..." i touched my chest, a flat, bony plane, nothing at all soft or pliant.

Vanessa considered patiently, and to her credit, she did seem reluctant about the idea. Finally, she relented. "True. And Persephone can't fix that," she began, then gesturing to my face. I didn't take offense to it - I had done this after all. "But she can help you with your appearance and the scars. Would you like to come with us to see her? Then we can go to Cupid." Her smile got wider and more gentle - she was excited. "You'll see, Psyche, it'll all be fine again."

Fine?

Of course I was skeptical. Nothing could be fine just like that. If it could, then... I stopped that though. I didn't have the courage to face you again. Not when I was the one to push you away, not when you didn't fight me - for me - and left.

You. You, romantic storyteller of shadow, my lover, knight of night, touch so strong and warm, smelling of eucalyptus, with enchanting blue eyes. I wanted to be worthy of you. I could fix myself again - if i could just be yours again, and you mine...

No one wanted an appearance, a face, like mine, after all. Living all my life as beautiful showed me that. If I wasn't beautiful, then I didn't deserve you.

I looked up Vanessa, and she returned my gaze with hopeful eyes. Her expression lit up when I nodded, turning my hand over to squeeze hers.

"I'll go."

* * *

They enclosed me on three sides, like some guards. Claude walking ahead of me, Vanessa next to me, and Ernest behind me.

It was still the middle of the afternoon, and if I went out now, everyone would see me, see what I had done to myself. I must've looked more pitiful than I thought because Claude bought me a veil, gossamer and black, for me to wear. I pretended not to see Ernest smirk as I put it on with relief, my view as dark as if I still had my bangs.

Before, I had done this to my face out of spite, thinking it would empower me. But now at the prospect of seeing you again, I felt like nothing again. Now I had to be more than what I was.

We came to a fork in the road, far off from the town. Both of them led to thick woods, but one was notably darker, the trees more bare and more gnarled branches twisting together in a wooden web. I was pretty sure that we'd be taking this path to the Underworld. Wordlessly, I followed your siblings to the very edge of the black wood.

"This wood is on a steep hill," Claude explained to me, stopping. His eyes, slightly darker than yours, bore down on me at a side-glance. "The further down you go, the closer you'll get to Persephone's door. Make sure to be polite. She doesn't take to kindly on rudeness. And don't stammer or sputter about - directness is key."

I flushed slightly, the veil brushing against my cheeks in the wind. "You all are not coming with me?"

"You're the audience, not us," Ernest said, tilting his head slightly, seeming to enjoy my confusion.

"But I don't even know what I'm to ask her," I argued lightly, heart beating faster.

Vanessa came up to me then and presented a small, black velvet box to me. I paused at seeing it, then realized she wanted me to take it. Slowly, I did, wondering if she knew I was staring at her questioningly. She nodded. "All you have to do when you see her is ask her to put some of her own beauty in this box. Make sure to thank her, alright? And when she gives the box back to you, you can leave and then open it once you come out."

I frowned, looking at the cube-shaped object resting on my palm. Beauty in a box? "Will it...work?" I asked tentatively.

Claude looked away. Ernest smirked. Vanessa smiled. "Yes," she said, turning me around to face the wood. she nudged me forward, nearly making me stumble, but I righted myself, sauntering down the path. I glanced back only once, and all three were staring after me expectantly. Within seconds of walking, I was swallowed up by the darkness of the wood and couldn't see out anymore.

I figured going straight would be the smart thing, as there were no paths as far as I could see. Everything was dead and the ground below me had not a single blade of grass. I had to be careful with my footing, slipping twice with the steepness of the hill.

I thought of Persephone, and what kind of person she was. If she were a child of Spring, I wondered why she lived in the Underworld. I pocketed the question for later, hoping she wouldn't be offended by it.

In another few minutes I found myself at the bottom of the hill. Cool mist drifted around, fogging my vision up even more. Still, nothing could mistake the large, black wooden door in between a tangle of trees. Lit candles stood on either side of the door and I approached it unsurely. If this didn't lead to the Underworld, I'm sure I wouldn't know what did.

There was no knocker or knob anywhere on the door. I began to wonder if anything was even on the other side. But the door was wedged in tight and there was no way for me to go around it. "Oh dear..."

"It's the candlesticks," informed a soft, lyrical voice behind me. I jumped when a pale, slender arm reach out and twisted the stand of the candle slightly. The door shuddered slightly before opening. I stood there frozen as a woman walked past me as silently and gracefully as if she were a ghost. Eyes as red and rich as blood glanced at me, equally red lips smiling impishly at me.

"What brings you here, stranger in a veil?" she asked. "Not often I get visitors."

"I... Are you Persephone?" I asked politely, standing up just a bit straighter.

She all but waltzed inside, grabbing my wrist and pulling me in. I gasped in surprise when he crossed inside the doorframe, coming into a long, dark nave-like hallway with a barrel-vaulted ceiling. More candles dotted the path and the woman lilted as she pulled me along, "Indeed I am. Have you come to keep me company? Does Revis know you're here? Oh, but he never allows me out to see anyone, so why would he bring someone in?"

For someone who I was insisted to show politeness to, Persephone was rather...direct. I followed her as best as I could as we walked past doors with screams and wails and moans before we finally turned into a large room. This one was silent, and a bed and fireplace were inside. It was nicely, albeit darkly, furnished - the walls and chandelier black, the carpet beneath our feet blood-red.

Persephone let go of my hand and danced over to the center of the room - literally danced, as if she were with some invisible partner.

I quickly found my voice, tugging at the lace of my cuffs. "Persephone-"

"No need to call me that. Address me as Lacie, please."

"I- Okay, Lacie. I've come to you to ask for a favor." I slowly stepped into the room, unsure of where to stand.

Lacie peered at me curiously. "Oh? What can I do for you?" she asked, strangely and suddenly focused.

The box, still in my hand, weighted heavily on my palm. I pulled it out and showed it to her. "I'm sorry to intrude upon you like this, but there's something I'd like to ask of you." I walked toward her, trying to hide any hesitation I had. "I'll get to the point. I'd like to request if you'd put some of your beauty in this box. Could you do that?"

Red eyes rimmed with long, black lashes blinked up at me. At first, she didn't appear to understand, then she cracked a smile. In another second, she was laughing. I flushed beneath my veil, wondering if I had done this wrong.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, you've come for that sort of thing. Hee, sometimes I wonder why don't you all just approach my husband yourself." She nodded, taking the box and dancing away to another door at the side of the room. "Of course I can fill this up for you. Goodness, you all certainly come up with creative ways to imprint on others."

The blush in my cheeks deepened. "I got hurt. I...I have to do this," I murmured, staring after her. The door remained open so that we could hear each other, though from where I stood I couldn't see her.

"Odd what we do if we're hurt or threatened in some way," Lacie said on the other side of the doorframe. "See what my brother Oswald does for nearly half the year while I'm here with Revis? He wasn't too pleased Revis took me, so he makes the world die along with his pain until it's time for me to come back."

Curiously, I asked, "Revis...? Is he Hades?"

I heard Lacie hum in agreement. In another moment, she stepped out of the door, the box closed and cradled in her hands. "But Oswald thinks that Revis took me unwillingly. He believes I could never love someone such as him." Her voice was soft, and somewhat delicate as she said this, her eyes downcast and darkened with the flood of her memories.

"Do you love him?" I inquired softly.

"Sometimes I do wonder if it matters whether or not I don't," Lacie replied simply, shrugging. "Others have such a strong impression of him, since he rules here in the Underworld. There are many who believe I'm ill-suited for him."

When she reached out for me to take the box, I slowly put the velvet cube back in my head. It felt no different, but I shrugged off the urge to open it right then. "If it doesn't offend you, I'd like to say I thought the same thing. You bring Life and he Death. Is that not ill-suited?"

"Who is to say? Just because our natures are different, doesn't mean we'll never cross paths. I'm given the impression that in this world, people would like to put together things that 'should' be together. However, I'd like you to ponder who it was that stated what is best suited for what. There isn't a single so-called rule of the world that hasn't been broken. That is to say, I love him very much. Not that it matters to the world - or even to you, for that matter."

"It does," I said reflexively. When Lacie looked at me in surprise, I asked, "So you don't care that he couldn't be good enough for you?"

Lacie looked cross, but only for an instant as she laughed again, more cruelly this time. I didn't think such a sound could be produced from her lips or her lyrical voice. "Oh, you're _that _kind of person. You poor thing," she laughed.

I found myself scowling beneath my veil. "Excuse me?" I snapped, not appreciating how suddenly she sounded like she knew something about me.

She settled herself onto her bed gracefully, smoothing her red dress over. "Let me ask one thing then," she said, placing her hands on her lap. She gave me a serious and intentful look, a somewhat ominous gesture in the dark candlelight. "What is love to you?"

"Love is the most beautiful thing I know," I told her simply, as if the answer were obvious. After all, why else was I doing this, except to have Love back again?

Lacie's lips spread in a smile. It was unsympathetic, and sardonic. She shook her head, looking down and touching the cuffs around her wrists. "I suppose that's one way to look at it," she said. Her ruby-red eyes bore onto me. "Let me just say one thing. If you look at a concept one-sided like that, you'll end up being hurt once you discover the other side. And it's perhaps even sadder when you've already known that other side - yet chose to forget all about it once you have the first side again."

I frowned, still pressing the box to me. I tilted my head slightly, the blackness of the veil casting her in shadows. "I don't understand completely. Are you implying I'm ignoring love's ugliness?" I asked slowly.

"I'm only saying," she began, her smile widening some, "don't be a fool. Ignoring ugliness is just as ignorant as ignoring beauty."

A chill, hot and sharp, ran down my body, and I had no idea why. Suddenly I felt too exposed, even with the black veil. I felt like she could see my scars - both on my body and inside me, and she knew what each and every one meant. I inhaled sharply and pressed the box to me. Finally, I managed to find my voice again.

"Th-thank you, Lacie. If I may, I'd like to take my leave now."

She smiled with all the sweetness of spilling blood. "You may," she said gently.

I didn't wait for her to say another word. I ran. Down the dark hallway and past the sounds of tortured souls. Fear and terror seized my insides and I resisted the urge to whimper. The veil slipped, falling off me but I didn't stop to retrieve it. The wooden door opened without me doing anything, as if it knew of my desperate want to escape. The chilly mist whipped past my bare face and I stumbled back out into the black wood, panting and trying to regain my breath.

Terrifying. Terrifying. Why would she say such things? I knew what I was doing. I knew about beauty. I knew about ugliness. I knew about pain and love. How could what I be doing be anything wrong? The box...

I blinked, realization hitting me. The box! I was still pressing it to my chest and I stared at it closely. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Well, none of this mattered now. I had a chance to get you back. Starting with this. I held the box up to my face and opened it.

I don't know what I had been expecting to be inside. I didn't even know beauty could be contained and given away such as this. What I didn't expect was the plume of black smoke rising out from the box, sighing like it was inhaling all the life around it. I widened my eyes, wondering what trickery this was-

When my own breath was stolen, and my vision went black. My heart stopped beating before I even hit the ground.

* * *

**Ending A/N: **And they all lived happily ever after. The end.

No, no, I'm totally kidding - maybe. There's one more chapter left, Elliot's point of view of course. I have a smidgen more free time in my classes since I don't have any major essays (which is all I do as an English major and read books, heh) to do for this week. So I'll try hard to write a lot while I can!

Review, perhaps?


	4. Unwaveringly

**A/N: **In case no one has caught it yet, I've been crossing names in here. Well, Cupid is the only exception in that I'm using the Roman name rather than using his Greek name (Eros) instead like I've been doing with anyone else. I'm just pointing this out to anyone who might've been bothered with it. I think I might accidentally type Erotic anyway every time Eros came up –shot forever- By the way, I went with the Ares and Aphrodite interpretation in being Cupid's parents, which is the interpretation I always liked. Hope that sits well with you, too.

Listening to sad Yuki Kajiura songs does the muse wonders.

Please enjoy!

_**Unwaveringly**_

Mother and Father used to be gods, widely known around the world. As a child, I'd pick up books of mythology and read them, only to find out that the most beautiful woman and brutal man in the world were my parents.

Even before our family had fallen into the shadows, there had been very little I had seen of my father. Searching through my memories, I could recall but a fearsome man with wild eyes and a strong jaw, long black hair falling over his shoulders as he leaned down to murmur one of the only things he ever said to me, "_Your mother likes to think you were born to be Love. But Love never helped anyone. You are to be nothing but loyal and obedient, as a son should be. More than Love, you should remember Hate. It will better serve you in this world_."

I closed my eyes tightly, curling my wings around me and trying to block out the commanding voice of my father.

"_Remember Hate. Your Hate. The hate of our family. We will always disdain those who cross us, who wrong us. Remember that Hate, Cupid, because that's what you are_."

My heart gave a start as I yelled out, quickly opening my eyes wide. Staring back at my flushed, sweating face was my mother, expression concerned with one of her hands hovering between us, reaching for me.

My mother used to be known as Aphrodite. She had been the most beautiful and adored woman of both man and god. Her eyes had been like sapphires, her hair golden-spun silk and the color full on her face. But years of being with Chaos and five children, one of which died, had aged her and grayed out her graceful features. The goddess she had been before had long since been forgotten by all. Sometimes I can see it though, the enchanting woman Father had met. With the concern she displayed now, I could definitely see a trace of her younger self.

"Cupid. Elly," she said, putting her hand down on my bed. "What's wrong? You were shaking."

My mouth was open but I couldn't muster up the energy to think of what to say. Mother's lips settled in a discomforted line and she moved over, hugging me and cradling my head against her shoulder. Without realizing it, my fingers curled around the midnight-blue ruffles of her dress. Her hand ran through my hair, soothing me as I leaned more into her.

"You haven't been acting yourself lately," she murmured when I still said nothing. "Your siblings tell me they think something must have happened when you visited that Psyche."

My heart flinched away at your name and I gripped my mother's dress a little tighter. At the same time, I shifted one of my hands to go over the scar from the burn your candle left me. "I just wanted time to myself," I tried to explain, but it sounded ridiculous. All of it was ridiculous. I didn't brood over anything, much less keep something from my family.

_If Vanessa or the others knew what I did with you, what I felt for you… They wouldn't understand_. It wasn't that my family was heartless, but things like love, which I thought I knew about - I couldn't imagine any one of them to understand any of it. I blinked then, coming to a realization.

"Did something happen? They told me they sent you there to…humiliate him," Mother continued to say, trying to understand why I was so cut-off. "But that they went to check on Psyche a few days ago and…"

Oh. So they knew I failed my mission. They knew you weren't under any kind of spell my arrows cast. I lightly pushed myself away from my mother to curl myself up at the head of my bed again. Glancing at her soft, pale blue eyes, I felt more secure, and I thought if anyone would understand or at least try to, it'd be her, who was once a goddess of love. And slowly, I looked down at my bare feet and murmured, "I couldn't do it." Like it wasn't obvious...

"Elly?"

"Back then, Mother, I couldn't shoot him with my arrow, I… I left without shooting him. But I kept going to go see him, every night. I talked to him. We…became friends," I said, the word 'lovers' unable to pass from my lips, though more from awkward embarrassment than shame. "I… We…" I flushed slightly, not used to saying these kinds of things while referring to myself. How odd was it that I never experienced affection for anyone, yet I was Love?

How ill-suited was I to even have felt anything towards you?

I felt Mother's eyes on me, trying to make sense of the little explanation I gave her. A rare frown creased her brow. "Elly," she said breathlessly, eyes widening. It was such a severe look that I stopped thinking and stared at her, wondering what was wrong. She reached out to grip my shoulders. "Cupid, did you fall under Psyche's charms?"

Your charms? The word almost made me want to laugh at first. And then I almost answered with a yes before I realized what Mother had really asked. She, like everyone else, was under the impression that you were some monster behind a beguiling mask of beauty.

But I knew you so much better.

I shook my head, reaching up to gently caress her hands. "No, no nothing like that. Mother, it wasn't any kind of spell or whatever. Nothing like my arrows, I just… It happened," I finished lamely. At the shock on her face, I quickly tried again to elaborate, "It's not bad. I just-"

"And that's why you've been in here for days," she interjected grimly, her lips turning down. My words hadn't even seemed to make it to her ears and I furrowed my brows. She broke away from me, smoothing out her dress as she rose from my bed. "He broke your heart. Because you fell in love with him."

"You say it like it's a poisonous thing," I said in a low, disbelieving voice, my eyes following her every movement. "I don't understand why you sound like that."

She turned back to me, her face softened. "Poisonous?" she asked in confusion.

"Isn't that right? You think I shouldn't have feelings for him. You see the same thing Father has always been teaching us to see – only hatred for people. And you know," Elliot moved, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, "all my life I never knew something like Love. But when I decided to see Psyche with my own eyes, I saw someone different than who I was supposed to hate. What I didn't do that night may have been against what my family wanted, but I'm tired of looking at the world in apathy and hate."

I was standing now. I hadn't even realized it until I was looking down at my mother, light shadows dancing over her face from the fluttering of my wings behind me. I never stood against my mother before – she never gave me cause to. Gentle, softspoken Mother…

"I thought you'd understand," I murmured in disappointment, plopping back down on my bed and frowning deeply. Although what more had I suspected? There were days I looked at my parents and wondered if they were truly together out of love – my father was so cold, my mother so tired. Out of my own thoughts, I asked quietly, "How did you even end up with someone like Father?"

She finally stirred, taking a deep breath. "Oh Elliot…" Her hand reached up to tug at the collar of her dress. "You don't realize how lucky you are with your arrows," she said, sounding weary. It wasn't the tone of someone who agreed with the view the rest of my family had of you.

It still didn't make what she said any more right. I shook my head fervently, completely disgusted with her idea. "No, I don't…" _I hate it. I hate my arrows. I wish I could snap each and every one into pieces_. "It's manipulation. Nothing I do is real. All the so-called happiness or bitterness I bring into relationships is something I created." _Everyone's heart is just a little puppet for me_. If only I hadn't been born this way…

Oh. I never considered that before. But if I don't do it, what use am I? This was my only purpose for as long as I've lived. If that's taken, who am I even anymore? Someone unnecessary? Someone useless?

Mother came over to me, touching my cheek softly. "Yes, it is something you created. Doesn't that make you happy that you can make others happy?"

"But it's not real, is what I'm trying to tell you!" I exclaimed desperately, pleading for her empathy with my voice. "Mother, it's fake. What I give to them isn't natural. People can fall in love on their own, without me meddling! That's…that's what Psyche taught me…"

Yes, I could fall in love with you, but… How long does that last? What about those feelings I had after you rejected me, those feelings of…of _hate_? The thought that I could have something so dark festering inside me sick. Because that would make Father right then, it would mean I really knew nothing but Hate.

_Even now, I sit here wondering how you could do this to me, to us, to what we could've been_.

Is this me then?

Born of Chaos and Beauty – both dark and painful yet beautiful and warm. I wondered if that's what Love really was. I had to know. I had to come up with what the name of it all was, because if I didn't, then you might really be lost to me again. And I didn't want to lose you, even though in reality…I might've already. Because every night all I knew was that one of us was in the wrong place, despite the fact that the memory of the look in your eyes and the words you said were still fresh in my mind.

I couldn't leave it at that. I couldn't leave it with me being apart from you and letting the Hate spread inside me like a disease.

_I want to see you_.

Mother stirred near me, catching my attention for just a second as she said my name uncertainly.

Ignoring that, I turned outside to my balcony and opened the doors. "I'm going to see Psyche," I said firmly, the conviction in my voice helping the growing will inside me. I stepped onto the ledge, spreading my wings. I was beginning to feel so light.

I had a plan to just take off without looking back, no matter what my mother might say, or omit with silence. But she called out to me then and said something that made me freeze right then, the wind picking up to make my mind spin in a weird vertigo. Slowly, I turned my head back to her, eyes wide.

"What?"

Lines of worry creased around her lips and on her forehead, and she took a step toward me, hand half reached out to me. "I said there's no point. That boy is probably dead by now."

As quickly as the shock had come before, now there was a cold sort of disbelief. "He can't just up and die. Don't lie to me to make me stay here, Mother," I said, in a strange sort of calm state now. I refused her words, and they bounced off me as surely as if I never heard them. I made to take off again when she exclaimed,

"I'm not lying, Cupid! Your brothers and sister went out to have him disposed of when they learned of what was happening with you. They went out, Cupid, and they took him to see Persephone down in the Underworld, to make him ask for a box of her beauty. And you know what that means. He's as good as gone now."

Disposed of? Gone, to the Underworld? "Because of me," I said so quietly I might've just mouthed it, and I inhaled sharply. The dark heat of hate bubbled inside me again, but I managed to shove down the scream building in my chest. Maybe once more I might've heard my mother whisper my name in a quiet plea, but I gave a powerful flap of my wings to muffle everything else.

All the lightness I had before went up too high, out of my reach, and I was heavy again, cold and heavy and bloodless. The only thing that kept playing again and again in my mind was your name and face, eyes looking away from me - _look at me, please-_!

Leo!

The scenery around me was an endless blur, but the smear of light blues and greens were not what I wanted. When I got far enough that finally the shadowy black of the woods were in sight, I dove down and frantically weaved through the trees. Branches clawed at my face and stabbed over my wings, plucking out feathers until I stopped flying and ran barefoot through the woods.

I knew where I wanted to be, I knew who I wanted to be beside at that instant, but every turn was on a thought and I hoped that maybe I was being led to you, wherever you were.

_Don't let me be too late, please don't let me be too late, don't have opened that cursed box_-!

"LEO!" I called out, and it was hard to tell what was louder in my ears - my own shouts or the thumping of my heart.

My foot slipped as I ran into a sudden slope, and I cursed as I slid down, rolling and bumping into fallen branches and tree roots until stopping once the ground became level again. I curled for a second, trying to regain my breath, not caring about my new scrapes or the ache of my body where I tumbled. "Nngh... Leo!"

_Call out to me! You can hear me, can't you_?

"...Ohh, interesting. A bruised and frantic Cupid has fallen before me," mused a lyrical voice right behind me.

Still on my hands and knees, I turned my head, looking up at the queen of the Underworld herself. I exhaled, and with it I seemed to calm down just the tiniest bit, enough that I could get back up on my feet again, albeit shakily. "Persephone. Lacie," I said, advancing to her in three easy strides. "My siblings, they sent a boy here, he didn't know that you gave death to others and he asked you-"

The recognition was plain on Lacie's face, and I stopped my explanation as soon as I saw the slight incline of her head coupled with the slight tight pressing of her ruby-red lips. "Give him to me," I said in a pained voice, but my body reacted first, my shoulders sagging with the weight of impending despair.

Easily, she stepped to the side, her long skirts revealing behind her like curtains.

You were lying there motionless on the ground, one hand pressed to your chest, and I imagined you gripping your clothing over it, trying to draw breath that couldn't come to you. A veil, black and gossamer, covered most of your face, although in your fall it had fluttered a bit to the side, and I saw the long lashes of your closed eye brush tiny shadows over your cheekbones.

I was too late.

The thought ghosted over me like a cold shroud rather than pierced through like a sword, and as soon as it did, my skin prickled in goosebumps at the sight of your corpse. I never knew much about death, but I had always thought wishing someone to be alive again was a pointless thing, an impossible thing so one should never think it, never; one had to _live_ and _accept_ the fact that...

"Lacie, you're Queen of the Underworld, so you can-"

"I can't." Her words were terse, precise, cutting into me deeply. Her neutral expression didn't change even when I looked at her with wide, lost eyes. "I know what you want, but I can't give it to you. I don't have those kinds of powers. And even though my husband does, he never does anything like bringing someone back to life without making a difficult bargain in exchange."

"I'll do it!" I declared desperately. "Whatever it is, whatever challenge, I'll do it!"

Lacie looked at me almost in disappointment before letting out a slow, deep breath. "This is a waste of time and you know it. I think it'd be better for you to take him and leave. Or cast aside his body here. The kind of death I give allows the body to remain intact and immune to the decay over time. An eternal, sleeping death, if you will."

Growling in frustration, I shook my head fervently, fists tightening at my sides as I gave you another look. "I don't want some damn _image_! I want _him_ back!" I cried out. Even when I knew it wasn't Lacie's fault. Or yours. There was little to hold me back from having my hand grip your clothing, my breath getting heavier, building in my chest hot and heavy like the desperate words coming out of my mouth. "He didn't know, dammit...! Why are you so stupid, Leo!? Why the hell are you so damn stupid!?"

I pressed my forehead to your chest, my hand curling to a tight fist, wanting to punch you - as if you'd even feel it. "Stupid Leo," I whispered. "Stupid, stupid..." Wetness made my eyelashes stick together, but I shut my eyes tight against it. When I opened my eyes again though, my heart still heavy, I found the deep criss-cross of cuts along your jaw. Shocked, I rose just slightly and removed your veil, sucking in a breath. My fingertips froze over the contours of your cheek, trembling. "This is why..."

"Can you tell? He did it to himself," Lacie explained quietly.

My eyes ran over every dried line of blood, every uneven lock of your cut hair, barely someone I recognized. While I had been toiling away with the darkness inside me, you took it to the outside on your own body. How easy it must of been for you to be tricked by my siblings, who had probably promised everything to you... And me? How was I different? "I shouldn't have left you...," I whispered weakly, biting inside my mouth. I shook my head slowly, brushing back your hair and caressing your face gently. Inside, I was screaming.

Too late, too uncertain.

When I looked back down, I caught the slight parting of your lips, and I curled up more to you, cradling your head onto my lap. My nose brushed against yours, and even though I had no idea how to beg for something, I let every word that sprung in my head to come out. "Leo, don't you go. Don't you dare go, you idiot. Come back here. Come back here..."

I pressed my lips to yours then, feeling only cold death.

* * *

I took the poison in. I still felt the darkness linger on my lips when I opened my eyes to the black sky swirling with small golden lights, and right then I was dragged back to that moment when I saw the candle's reflection dancing in the beautiful abyss of your eyes. There was a scent around me, not living but not exactly the putrid stench of death, either. When I looked down, and finding them there all around the ground, I saw the withering petals of anemone around me, small and stiff, nearly all the color faded from them. One experimental movement of my foot had the dying flowers scratching against each other. I put my foot down and scanned over the dark landscape.

"Leo?" I mouthed. Audible now, "Leo." Louder, "Leo!"

I stepped out, head spinning left and right frantically to search for you. Anemones crunched beneath my feet and I tried to move lightly even when I was so frantic. No matter where I went, the field of withered anemones did not slow, and the blackness above me did not grow lighter. Then I realized the lights, the lights that I thought were just in the sky, that were now falling gracefully and leisurely down, were particularly concentrated in a bee-line down to the dead earth.

Without delay, I followed the rain of tiny golden lights. It wasn't far, but it felt longer than it should to finally come to the base of this mystical waterfall and find you there laying curled up among the withered flowers. I stopped right behind you, letting myself to take you in for just a second as I exhaled what must of been a relieved breath.

You sensed me. Your shoulders tensed, but then you looked behind you. The new cuts on your face were still there, and your thick hair was still short and uneven as you rose up. You gazed at me in shock, almost fearful. It reminded me too much of the night you pushed me away, when I left you. And, taking it as a second chance, I fell to my knees and embraced you tightly, pressing your face into the crook of my neck.

You were so _solid_. It was perhaps the most wonderful feeling, to feel your softness, to hold you tight, to nuzzle into your hair and now right then you would not leave my arms unless I willed it. And you weren't pushing me away, but I felt how tense you were, how you froze, but then, yes, gradually, so gradually, relaxed until your forehead was pressing heavily against my shoulder.

"Elliot..."

"You are the most stupid person," I half-growled, half-sobbed. It surprised me how quickly the tear had come to pool in my eyes, but I didn't know if I was more happy or sad.

Too easily, you resigned, "I know..." Then, as an afterthought, you murmured, "Elliot, you're hurting me a bit."

"Just deal with it. I'm not letting you go ever again." I held ever tighter, hearing you gasp, and my hands traveled over your back, fisting the back of your hair. "God, I'm never letting you go. How could you go and do that? How could you do this to yourself?" I wanted to say you should have come to me, but I knew how bad that would sound, especially when I had left you, too. _No more though, never again_.

When I finally did let go, and you took in more even breaths, your first words were, "How did you find me?"

"My mother told me what my siblings had done, and I didn't wait a second longer to come look for you."

"It's too late though, Elliot. I'm already..." You looked down, one of your hands reaching for the nearest anemone and nudging the dried petals with your finger. "I didn't know what would be inside the box. If I had, I'd... I would have never opened it. I swear." Your hands shook when you tried to rake your short bangs over your face again. "I know what I look like now, and I know what you must be thinking, but I...I swear once they told me I could make things right, I didn't once think about trying to kill myself. Being apart from you was the worst thing, and letting you go was a torturous thought that kept eating my mind and...and trying to destroy my outsides was the punishment that I thought up. But I didn't seek this out, I..."

My expression softened a bit, and I could feel myself calm down just from the sound of your voice alone. Once more I traced over the array of cuts on your face, wondering why you chose this to be your punishment. Had you been so torn up inside that the razors couldn't be content with cutting up inside you, they had to surface as well? And what was horrendous about them wasn't how they altered your appearance, it was how and why it was done - the intent behind it is what made me want to lower my gaze. One of my thoughts came up to voice with a murmur of, "Why can't you love yourself, Leo?"

It had been a very cruel question, and I was about to retract it, but you didn't seem surprised to hear it at all. "All my life has been people hurting me, never letting the 'real' me - whoever that even is - out. I'm just an object, Elliot. Treating myself this way _is_ loving myself - based on what I've been taught." For a second, you were quiet, contemplative as your eyes slowly traced out into the distance before gracefully landing back on me. "I thought...maybe after meeting you, your way was the one that was right, but... I don't know anymore."

I came closer again, leaning in with my wings loosely curling against my shoulders. My hand came out, hovering near your cheek, wanting to brush back the uneven locks of your hair, and I made shadow movements of the action. "That's the thing, Leo," I told you softly, hoping more than anything you'd hear me out. "It's the same with me. I don't think I understood any of it at all until I met you. I didn't know this was something that could grow. And thinking of it now...it's like these anemones, isn't it? How this feeling called love grows, but then has to be taken care of. And I didn't know how to care for us yet when I left you. IT's different now, though. Things like love," I came closer to you, touching you as I wrapped an arm around you, "it can happen between two people without my arrows. It's not artificial with you. And I..."

_I love you_.

"...Were we both wrong then?"

I gazed at you in slight surprise. "For hoping for more? Of course not. The only wrong thing, I think," I leaned in, my lips pressing against your forehead but not kissing you necessarily, "would be if we didn't try to act with that hope. And I...was the one to push you away that night."

"Only because of what I did," you replied lowly, your voice a blown-out candle, the same small fire that had shocked us that night. "Because I believed Glen's words over your love. That's how much I trust you." There was a sardonic ring at the end of your statement.

I did kiss you then, holding your hand to bring up to my lips and kiss the back of your palm too, lingering and savoring every bit of your touch against my skin. My eyes had closed in the middle of that, and when I opened them again, I looked straight at you, and saw you just as you were the first time I laid eyes on you, the moment I realized I loved you, and held you to me. "You know how much you trust me?" I said, still holding your hand as, with my other, I cupped the back of your head. "Enough that you opened yourself up to me, enough that you let me hold you and touch you."

Up until then, your expression had slowly been softening. The lights had returned to your eyes bit by bit, but then you tried to pull back, looking torn. "I want that again," you explained to me slowly. "I want to offer every part of myself to you - I just... What if you don't want any of it? I don't..." You looked bitterly sad, hand going limp in my hold. "I don't even have a Soul."

"It'll be like the first time again, then," I reassured you, knowing you'd remember each scar and red line I had kissed back then, and how it'd be no different now when I gave you all the love I had for you. This, I hoped, would be the start of making it better again, when you should you were willing to try to trust once more - and not just me, but yourself, and what the two of us could do together. It could _only_ be us. My lips brushed against a thick cut right next to your eye, where even now, yes, I thought I saw it.

Uncertainly, your head nodded toward mine, your lips trembling when we finally met for a kiss. Your back melted into the sea of anemone as my body breathed heavily against yours. Wordless and breathless, I communicated everything to you as surely as we had before, when we had the cover of night, when that didn't matter because we were in love, and these touches and gasps were all we needed to know. I did it slowly, shielding you and holding you together as you tried yourself to bring your fallen pieces together, turning your face and hiding from me when my hand dipped low between your thighs, before letting out a pleased mewl and gazing back up at me defiantly. You pulled me down for a hungry kiss, and I tasted you so sweetly again, cupping your face even when we wrestled to take our clothes off.

"It's better like this," I whispered hoarsely, sucking on your pulse. "Because now..." I grunted, leaning down over you, wiping back what was left of your bangs. "Now I can see your eyes." And god, if there was any part of you that still believed you were unworthy of me - how you could have such a thought still hurt - then I'd tell you right then how powerless you could make me with just a glance of those beautiful dark pools, shining with candlelight.

And for a few seconds we stayed like that, me exposing your eyes and moving my hips to bury myself deeper in you, and you gazing back at me, tears falling down either side of your face. "Elliot... Elliot, is it there?" you asked, embracing me.

I smiled, panting hotly against your ear. "Yes," I said. "It's there." Your nails raking down my back and your body arching against mine I took to be your response. Your legs held fast around my body, tossing your head back as you moaned. My wings, which had already been fluttering slightly, twitched in pleasure when your fingers brushed against them, and I thrust faster, my mind going blank with little else but to keep moving.

My name was called out again and again, falling from your lips, your voice getting higher and more breathless until it was nothing more than broken, incoherent sounds moaned into my ear. My own voice was nearly lost to me as you held tight to me inside you, the noises of our lovemaking the only thing around us. Opening my eyes just before I felt you climax, I saw the bright colors returning to the anemones, fairytale hues of purple and red, white and pink, but their sweet scent was lost to me over the smell of our sweat and sex.

When I released inside you, all but collapsing on top of you, you cradled my head to your chest, and I closed my eyes. You said not a word as we regained our breath, but like always, I felt it in your touch as you weaved your fingers through my hair:

_I love you_...

* * *

The sharp gale of air that filled your lungs as my ear pressed against your chest was perhaps the sweetest sound I could wake up to. I swayed slightly as I got up, barely registering the dark woods around us when you coughed. I smiled, ready to embrace you when I noticed your coughs persisted, and you were sitting up, propped by one of your arms as you covered your mouth. Shadows, now something more liquid-like, spilled in between your fingers and fell to the ground. Immediately I was holding you, patting your back so that every bit of Death that had entered you would come out.

"F...Fine," you said hoarsely, straightening up shakily when your fit was over with. You looked so tired, dark circles around your eyes, but your lips slowly formed an incredulous smile. "I'm fine...Elliot." We smiled brightly at each other and you hugged me.

I held my arms around you more tightly now, resting my chin on top of your head. When I looked up, I saw Lacie still there. She was squatted on the ground, a small box open in her hand as she carefully ushered the Death from the ground near us to the box. When all the shadowy material had slugged its way back inside, she closed the box and stood up to brush off her skirts. I pulled back away from you just slightly, asking her, "How did that happen?"

"I told you it was rather more like eternal sleep than an actual death," she explained simply, offering an impressed smile as she tossed back her long black hair. "All you did was wake him up."

It was as good an explanation as any, and if the end result was you sitting here breathing again, then I had no reason to object it.

Others did, though.

"The question," said a quiet and slightly confused voice behind me, "is why you would do it. Cupid."

Vanessa and my two brothers were standing there, and at the sound of my sister's voice, you had tensed slightly, but I gripped your shoulder firmly. "What the hell is wrong with you, sending him here and trying to kill him?" I asked, brows furrowed in anger.

The equally frustrated expression that had been on Vanessa's face fell. Just as quickly, she stomped over to grab my arm. "For Heaven's sake, you have no idea what you're saying! You should've left that brat to die! We did it for you, Elliot!" she exclaimed, trying to yank me up.

I stared at her in bewilderment. "Are you joking? He was literally dead in my arms when I came!" I protested, taking my arm back. I moved in front of you, shielding you from my siblings in case any of them got other ideas. "All this did for me was cause pain. You had no right in taking him away like that!"

A few feet behind, Claude and Ernest exchanged troubled looks. "The slut's got him on a tighter leash than we thought," murmured Ernest with a discomforted curl of his lips. I heard his comment though and glared intensely at him. It took no time for me to be in front of him, you right behind me with our hands tightly linked. Maybe I was too blind in anger, because at no point in my right mind would I do this, but too quickly my fist was raised and I landed a hard blow to my brother's face, sending him to a surprised stagger until he fell back.

"Elli-!" you shouted in surprise.

I gave no one time to recover. "Don't you dare call him that. None of you know a damn thing about him." I kept going, too far ahead to quit now, as I unleashed all my musings for the past few days onto them. "All you do is go along with whatever Father says. Well, he's wrong, about everything!"

"Elliot...?" called Vanessa in a torn voice.

"This is something I've thought up on my own," I said, turning my eyes away from Ernest's wide gaze to look at Vanessa. "This is nothing Psyche told me, but things I've been thinking over on my own. And you know what? This is how I like it, to be able to make decisions for myself now, without being controlled by the things Father and everyone else says. I will be the one to decide right and wrong now, for myself." I looked at you then, my source of strength and will. More quietly, but not any less firm, I said, "Starting with my job. I won't be casting arrows into anyone's heart anymore, be they of love or hate. No more of it. I always felt it was wrong, and even today I got worried about how meaningless my existence might mean now, but..."

My pain was reflected in yours, because I felt it then when we made love - you were going to try too. "But it's okay now," you said almost inaudibly, but the small smile you had at the end of that statement was the end of it. You linked our hands properly, and I nodded in agreement.

Claude was the first to react. "N-Now see here, Elliot, I think maybe we should talk this over-"

"We could. I'd be willing for it," I replied tersely. "But I won't have my mind changed about this."

The sound of slow clapping echoed in the dark forest, and standing there right beside Lacie was a man with long, deathly white hair. Strips of white cloth criss-crossed over part of his face, where even beneath there peeked traces of rotting flesh. He smiled at each of us, and only started clapping a bit faster when all attention turned to him. "Very well said," he praised in a cordial tone that didn't fit his image. "I must say, this is a day I never thought would come. Not just _anyone_ could extract Lacie's Death from another's body."

Vanessa, who was nearest to the pair, stepped back quickly. "Hades!"

"I say," said the king of the Underworld, placing his hands on Lacie's shoulders as he leaned to her, "it's quite an admirable feat, is it not? Do you want to reveal to them your secret of how you make it, my dear?"

"I would, Revis," returned Lacie lovingly without missing a beat. "But then I'd have to say that Cupid's little speech there might've spoken about it. But it could be that he may need a little help - his siblings look quite lost."

Kissing her cheek, Revis said, "That would be Bernard's training. I'm not surprised." His one revealed eye, colored a bright, floral kind of purple, traversed over us, finally stopping right at me and you, going down to our linked hands. He took a step forward, making my siblings back up in a hurry. Ignoring this and probably used to it, Revis leaned in and explained meaningfully, "It's a bit too sugary for my tastes, but if Lacie isn't just the spring child to adore this kind of thing. It's _love_, you children of Chaos. True love. Soul mates. All that wonderful flowery stuff that you probably can't even _begin_ to understand. Listen well to this pair though, and you might get an _idea_ of it."

Ernest, who was still on the ground, righted himself and yelled out, "Th-there's no way that _thing_ loves Elliot-!"

"No," you interrupted then, so abrupt when you had been so quiet, that even I looked at you in surprise. Our hands were still locked together, and your large eyes looked at my brother with a dark, intense look. A stunned silence followed that you took advantage of. "You can say anything you want about me, I've heard it all before - my looks, my family, give me any derogatory name you wish. But if there's anything I won't allow you to criticize or doubt about me, it's that I cherish Elliot. That will be the one thing I refuse to let anyone taint for me. And by the way," you let go to approach Ernest, and even though you were shorter, my brother wasn't the one that seemed threatening. "If you _must_ know, Elliot was my first, and only."

A horrified and embarrassed look crossed Ernest and Claude's faces, and Vanessa's cheeks were scarlet. "Y-y-you two...actually...!"

Revis let out a loud, amused laugh, tossing his head back with the bark of laughter as you took my hand again and led me out of the clearing, leaving my stunned siblings behind. If you knew where we were going, you didn't let it on. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the outburst you had before. Maybe it was a mistake on my part to think you still were so fragile, but even so... I was pleased.

"You told them off," I said with a small laugh.

"So did you."

So I did. Going against my family like that... When did I ever think I would do such a thing, even when I felt my job and their orders had been so wrong? But I did it now, and there was no point in turning back. Not when I finally had you again. I stopped walking, and yanked you back to me. You fell onto my chest, and I went back against a tree without regard to my wings.

"I'm...so..." Happy, was what I wanted to say, but the word couldn't get off my tongue, occupied with kissing you deeply.

You flushed, the first traces of color coming back to your scarred face. "...Me too," you finally replied. "I love you, Elliot." That's what came out of your mouth, but I also felt it coming from your roaming fingertips, your breathing chest, your fluttering eyelashes. Everything was saying my name, and I could only hope that you could hear yours coming off of me with each kiss.

There was so much about us that had become different. You weren't the same mythical beauty others had come miles for just to see. Your wounds would make scars, but that was fine. You weren't so soulless anymore. I would no longer be the god of others' hearts, and I would have no purpose anymore. One by one, my arrows would break, and maybe even one day my wings would fade until I was but a man. But I also had you and time ahead to figure it all out again. I suppose if we really wanted, we could try it all again, to be someone's puppet, to be chained down by what we always thought felt wrong, to be torn between two parts of ourselves just to have some sort of concrete meaning to our existence. But when I'm the one holding your hand, and you holding my heart, then we'll continue look to this uncertain future.

Together and unwaveringly.

* * *

_"Psyche was the long-legged girl who kept her head bent as if to hide her face with her black hair. She always seemed so sad. He tried to talk to her but she wouldn't look at him..._  
_Eros could not help himself... He knew she was the part of him that was missing but he didn't know how to explain it to her...  
When his soul finally lit the candle he felt betrayed, but he would've stayed anyway. It was that she sent him away. Afraid that she was not enough...  
Eros wrote about the girl who was his soul and in this way he felt his soul inside of him... It was like writing a letter and putting it in a bottle and sending it out to sea. _  
_When he found her again he wanted to stay forever in that hotel room in the deserted city. He never wanted to leave her. But he was afraid that she would leave him. That she still felt she was not enough. _  
_He might have tried, though._  
_**Joy** changes everything_."

- Francesca Lia Block, _Psyche in a Dress_

* * *

**Ending A/N**: FINALLY 'TIS COMPLETE -collapses on the floor, clutching chest-

So they went on to have a sappy happy ending. Eventually Elliot's siblings came around, albeit quite reluctantly and with no small amount of arguing. Glen was a lot harder to convince, and promptly proceeded to cut off all ties with Leo. At some point after their private wedding (that certain rulers of the Underworld had no problems blessing), they knew they'd have to find a place of their own and away from their families. Nowadays they live their days well enough in between the regular things, and just hope Glen won't come busting through the door one day to demand their first child (for what, I don't know, it seems to fit).

And I chose anemones for a number of reasons that worked out well and jktgbjktb It has a number of meanings to it, and I actually like it a lot, because it's meanings seem to tie in with a story of how it got its name - which, ironically, has to do with Venus (Aphrodite's Roman counterpart). Aside from its negative meanings like "forsaken" and "sickness", it also has "undying love" - all emotions I thought were appropriate to be inside Leo. Ajkgnlgt I just want to share that -wheezes-

I'm going to be a shameful person and ask for a comment/critique, if I am worthy of it -bows profusely-


End file.
